


Honeymoon

by Azar443



Series: Funkspiel's Birthday [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 05:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11548224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azar443/pseuds/Azar443





	Honeymoon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Funkspiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Funkspiel/gifts).



There’s the feel of a breeze on his back, Percival thinks, which shouldn’t be, since New York is currently going through the most intense of heat waves. His eyelids struggle to flutter open, lethargic contentedness crooning for him to go back to sleep, but he persists. For some reason, there are white curtains, sheer and soft, blowing wildly in a gust of wind that ruffles his hair, and he remembers distantly that the curtains in his home are a dark blue. He sits up, and the cool cotton sheets sliding from his skin aren’t the heavier silk blankets that adorn his king sized bed. His mind is confused, but there’s a comforting warmth next to him that his deliciously devoid of any clothing and a soreness in his nether regions reminds him just where his is, and what he’s doing here.

There’s a coldness on his ring finger, and the gold of a wedding band glints off the rays of sunlight pouring through the window. He’s married. To Newt Scamander. The flop of red hair, which is the only thing visible from the bundle of blankets next to him is his husband. His very freckled, very talented in bed husband, which is evidenced by the heaviness in his limbs from exhaustion, and the lingering scent of sex in the air. They had gotten very little sleep, but Percival supposes allowances can be given for the lack of rest. After all, they  _are_  on their honeymoon, and he  _is_  forbidden to go back to New York any sooner than two weeks, and his new husband  _is_  very, very attractive.

Newt stirs, and Percival thinks the split second when his green eyes are hazed over with sleep and satisfaction and innocence makes for a very charming picture. Pressing a kiss onto Newt’s red hair, he murmurs the gentlest of good mornings, and is amused when the lankier man immediately buries his head in the nook of his partner’s neck, mumbling about the blasted sun and how he’ll burn as red as a lobster. Percival rolls his eyes but obliges, waving the curtains closed and relaxes back into bed once more, relishing in the rare instance where he is allowed to do nothing but lounge in bed with the man he loves, wearing nothing but bed sheets. He drifts off again, the soft whir of the fan the only sound in the elsewise silent room.

The days are spent in bliss, and there are clichéd walks along the beaches, and candle-lit dinners at night where Newt rambles on about his creatures, and Percival listens on with the most indulgent of smiles. When the wine gets the best of them, the rest of the night passes by with drunken laughter and amorous touches that are clumsy and draw more laughter, and when they fall in bed, their first touches are fervent and hasty, wanting to feel the other writhing beneath, to consume one another. Later, when the initial haste has been sated, their movements are tender, languid, and Newt is delighted to find out that his stoic husband has a masterful way with words, and he whispers lyrical declarations of love to Newt as they finally settle down for the night, exhausted and sore but never happier.

If there is one thing that Newt enjoys the most during their honeymoon, it’s the long, lazy conversations they have about anything and everything. Percival talks quietly about how he sometimes wishes he could leave New York, leave the burden of his position and the weight of the suspicious gazes of people who wonder if he even should be the Director still. Newt talks about Theseus, of the adoration he has for his older brother, of the slithering whispers Envy places near his ear, and of the infrequent, but warm exchanges they share. They speak of plans for the future, and Newt conjures up images of a happy family when he excitedly talks of how they’ll adopt a boy and a girl, and how they’ll have Percival wrapped around their fingers, and even though Percival slows his rapid thoughts with a piercing kiss and a reminder to take things one at a day, he can’t help but dream of small hands around his neck and he gives their children piggy back rides around Central Park, and Newt fussing about them and admonishing him to be careful. He falls asleep with a smile that night, and there’s the faint feeling of a pair of lips on his before he loses hold on the waking world.

The day they’re due to return to New York, both are reluctant to board the ship. The sea is a glittering blanket of blue and green that stretches far beyond the eye can see, and the winds are combing through the waving leaves of palm trees scattered throughout the island, bidding them a soft goodbye. Percival finds himself dragging his feet, and chancing a look back at the paradise that stole away a piece of his heart, feels the reluctance to return to New York grow. But there’s a tug on his hand and he looks up to be met by the eyes of the man whom he loves above all, and he knows his home is wherever Newt is. The ship’s horn blows, a loud sound that reverberates throughout the island, and they board, hands warmly intertwined as they’re ushered to the lounge where they’re given champagnes to toast while the ship slowly moves away from port. When Newt tells him he thinks they should take another vacation in the near future, Percival readily agrees, and he begins thinking about where they could go next. London perhaps, to visit the Scamander family, or even Ireland, where he’s not been back to for decades now. Regardless, wherever they go, as long as Newt is by him, he knows he’ll be the happiest man ever.


End file.
